Geeks

via The Daily Beast: Rockefeller, Carnegie, J.P. Morgan: This country used to produce impressive if immoral captains of industry. Now we’re stuck with unrefined geeks like Mark Zuckerberg. I fear for America….

Henry Hanks reports on an apparent disconnect between sci-fi geeks and belief in UFOs and other unexplained phenomena, at CNN’s GeekOut blog: I was surprised, leading up to this weekend’s top grossing…

Reminds me of the Ellen Page/Rainn Wilson geek comedy Super. Kirk Johnson reports for the New York Times:

Salt Lake City: Red Voltage and two of his masked crime-fighting colleagues were approaching an intersection here in Utah’s capital on a recent evening, walking night patrol on foot, when a car suddenly slowed next to them. The night was bitterly cold, laced with a wispy stew of fog that might or might not conceal a thousand dangers. The car’s window rolled down.

“Hi, superheroes!” a woman shouted from within. “I’m in love with you guys!”

Eat your heart out, Batman. In a niche of urban life that has evolved in recent years somewhere between comic-book fantasy and the Boy Scout oath, a cadre of self-cast crusaders — some with capes, some without, all with something to prove — are on the march…

A political writer for a second rate, online news magazine, Michael Cobb is assigned by his editor to cover a sci-fi and fantasy convention in a bid to humiliate him.

Since Cobb can’t afford to turn down the job, he heads to Georgia and dives head first into the world of Griffin*Con, renowned the world over as the Mardis Gras of geek conventions. In Atlanta he finds a place that takes geeky debauchery to new heights: science fiction and fantasy, cosplay, booze, sex, comic books, drugs, slash fiction, and more.

This scene takes place on Cobb’s first day at the con:

My heart sank, killing the warmth of the drugs. The urge for locomotion finally returned to my legs and I continued my sojourn to the elevator.

That feeling of flying high without a safety net returned as the elevator doors I’d finally reached opened with a sharp DING.

Remember the Star Wars Kid and his .002 seconds of Internet fame? He’s gone from harassed geek to community leader and young lawyer. That faint glow is coming from the cockles of my blackened heart.

The mean kids at the Internet table wreaked hell on the poor guy. Yes, the self-styled demi-gods of Gawker hate us all equally, but you can’t help but feel for the kid when you hear about the severe depressions, the lawsuits, and the hospitalizations.

But look at him now: president of a conservation society! Co-star of a documentary! Budding lawyer! Living meme! Sir, tonight I quietly drink to you. Without telling anyone I am doing so. Because that would be embarrassing for everyone.

Earlier this month, designer Yuri Suzuki called for help to create a Pee Wee Hermanesque breakfast machine. Now, the heavenly contraption is done. Here’s a rundown of the machine (not in English, but eggs and toast are pretty universal):

The completed machine assembled a breakfast of an omelet, toast with jam, coffee and orange juice that was served all day to visitors of the Platform21 show in Amsterdam. But allow us to be the first jerks to say, wait, no bacon?